


The Arms of the Ocean

by deathwailart



Series: The Holy Sea [8]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Bisexual Female Character of Color, F/F, Femslash February, Fluff, Hair Washing, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-13 02:35:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3364517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathwailart/pseuds/deathwailart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Araceli returns from listening in on rumours at a seedy tavern involving a heavy bottle and her head, Leandra takes care of her guard injured in the line of duty.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Arms of the Ocean

She's so tired. She stinks of brine and stale water, cheap ale and even cheaper tobacco smoke and her boots sprang a leak so her feet are damp, squeaking when she walks, toes numb. A headache is blooming outward from where she was clubbed with the end of a bottle, an ever-tightening pulsing pain and tomorrow she'll have a lump as well as an ugly bruise. She wants to go back to the rooms she still keeps close to the docks, tiny space that it is, so she can fall asleep in her own bed after soaking in a bath and scrubbing herself clean but she had to report to the captain right away and the thought of walking back hadn't appealed. She'll need to report again in the morning anyway because her words had slurred, a few details muddled as she swayed on her feet and the captain had been concerned enough to drag the doctor out of bed to get a look at her. No concussion though, a small mercy even if the captain didn't seem convinced but she hadn't been able to keep her there so now Araceli can scrub in the baths and collapse into bed at the wing reserved just for the queensguard. Maybe Lux will have slept in her bed so it'll be warm but knowing him, he's probably in Leandra's bed, tucked in all snug and cosy or he's curled with someone else.  
  
Halfway down the hall her vision swims, black spots and flashes and her wet feet slide out from under her when she wobbles, light-headed. With a muffled curse she manages to at least stagger against the wall and lean against it, sinking down to the floor with a sigh and a groan. She gets her head between her knees and hopes she's not about to throw up as her stomach clenches in a painful and worrying fashion because she doesn't want to deal with that. She'd need to find a servant to clean it up and that's not something she can deal with now. So she breathes deeply, willing the nausea to pass, for her head to clear. Maybe she could sleep here. Her arms tremble when she tries to push herself up and it's alarming – or it would be if she weren't so damned tired and could bring herself to care – that her body isn't doing what she wants. Honestly she wants to cry for no good reason. She's been hurt far worse before, she's had longer nights and there's no real reason to cry but the tears bubble up from nowhere before she can stop them, she's no longer trying to push herself and instead sits on the cold marble floor of the palace hall, hands over her mouth to make less noise. Her stomach clenches from trying to hold it in, pathetic noises escaping her as her head pounds even worse, her breath catching each time she tries to take a deep breath to calm down. So she folds her arms across her knees, drops her head again and shudders from the sobs, biting down hard enough on her bottom lip that it hurts, willing it to pass before she's discovered.  
  
Of course Lux appears. Lux always seems to know when something's wrong with her no matter how far apart they are but she doesn't look up when she hears the clicking of his nails, not until he's worming his way up to her side and between her legs to press his cold wet nose to her cheek. She buries her hands in his thick fur, clutching him close. Lux never minds her crying against him.  
  
"Araceli!"  
  
Leandra's voice is enough to make her freeze, not daring to look up even as Lux licks her cheek then wriggles out to scamper over to the queen, darting around her ankles from what Araceli can see from peeking out under her arm. She wipes her face roughly, tries to breathe in only to cough and forces herself to her feet and she at least manages that much, straightening her coat and hoping that whatever she's doing with her face is close to a smile.  
  
From the way Leandra's face falls, she's clearly failed.  
  
"What happened! Are you hurt? Do I need to call for the doctor?" The queen's voice is soft, clearly worried and she takes both of Araceli's hands in hers. At least her rumpled hair and the crease of the pillow on her cheek make Araceli _want_ to smile.  
  
"Tavern brawl," she explains, grimacing at her hoarse voice. "Reported to the captain, she called the doctor, got checked out and I'm fine."  
  
Leandra doesn't look convinced, squinting in the dark hall to look for any injuries. "Fine isn't always enough Araceli."  
  
"I got hit in the head, it hurts but it's nothing a little sleep won't help."  
  
"Araceli!" Lux yips softly to echo the queen's alarm and Araceli drops her head, sniffing and freeing a hand to wipe over her face again.  
  
"I promise, I've been in tavern brawls before, I'll sleep somewhere that's vaguely flat and not covered in hornets and tomorrow I'll take it easy and I'll be fine."  
  
"I asked you to go there to verify rumours and you were _hurt_."  
  
"I _am_ your guard remember? It's part of the job," Araceli reminds her as she finds herself being guided along the hall, wanting to protest Leandra pulling her close when she's filthy and stinking and Leandra's all soft and clean, barefoot and clad in a nightgown. She doesn't want to tell her she's been on the receiving end of worse, Leandra always worries so much about them and she loves and hates it in equal measure.  
  
Leandra sighs, thumb rubbing over the back of Araceli's hand as Lux rushes ahead to the queen's chambers and her voice is barely above a whisper. "I know that you all said you would give your lives for me but to see any of you hurt in the line of duty hurts me too."  
  
"Tavern brawls happen, I've started my fair share y'know, I just take you to the less seedy ones."  
  
Leandra sighs again and gives Araceli a little push into her private chambers, none of the other queensguard present tonight although there's never any sort of schedule with them and who sleeps where but she's glad of it tonight even if she doesn't like being here when she's like this. Right now, it's almost overwhelming and she tries to think of the right words to say but nothing comes to mind so she carefully feels for the bump on her head, massaging the spot with her fingertips to see how far it's spread.  
  
"I'm going to run you a bath," Leandra declares and Araceli stares.  
  
"That's not necessary," she replies, wanting to run but she'd fall over if she tried.  
  
"You need a bath, I can hardly let you go to bed like that and what would it look like if you bathed on your own and drowned, a Castilean daughter of a Bride and a Son!" Lux trots over to sit next to Leandra and Araceli mouths the word traitor but he sniffs and sits up as tall as he can as Leandra favours Araceli with the look she usually wears when she sits on the throne to deal with recalcitrant councillors. "A bath will help you feel better."  
  
"You shouldn't be running me a bath!"  
  
"Why not? I know you run baths for one another, you've run them for me too."  
  
"But you're-" Araceli cuts herself off for a moment, too tired to really argue but she can at least remember when she should be embarrassed, forcing herself to meet Leandra's eyes, arms at her side, fingers clenched. "You're the _queen_ , you don't-"  
  
"I love you, Araceli, I love all of you and I'm going to run you a bath."  
  
There's not much she can say to that as Leandra turns sharply and crosses the room to open the double doors into her private baths attached to her chambers. Araceli kneels carefully and Lux trots back across to her, rolling onto his back so she can rub his belly; he has absolutely no shame whatsoever, he learned that from her after all.  
  
"Traitor, you just want to stay here in her bed don't you?" She asks and Lux yaps, tail lashing from side to side. When she moves to sit with crossed legs, he neatly hops into the space and nestles in, both of them listening to the running water, the sound of it calming enough that Araceli can feel her eyes beginning to droop, shoulders slumping. She's so tired. So tired. And now the queen of Castileos is going to give her a bath and on any other day it's a very interesting prospect because Leandra has a huge bath, a soft pearly thing carved like a giant shell that comfortably holds more than one person and on the occasions she's washed Leandra's hair, they've both ended up in there, water sloshing over the tiles and Araceli having to fight her way out of soaking wet clothes. Now that they're together and with all of them being involved it shouldn't be so strange but some parts of her, the very Castilean parts that are devout, that believe in the stories of their kings and queens having the blood of the merfolk in their veins, that part whispers that it's still wrong, that a queen shouldn't do this for someone like Araceli.  
  
Fortunately enough of her brain is still awake enough to remind her that Leandra is a queen that wants to change things, to bridge the gap between all of them to make them equal and that it really is a normal thing and it's just exhaustion and whatever hysteria seems to have gripped her tonight that's making her this stupid.  
  
"Araceli?" Leandra calls, poking her head around the door. "The bath's ready, do you need a hand?"  
  
She at least gets to her feet on her own, dislodging Lux who hops up on the foot of the bed, wriggling under the covers until just his face sticks out. "I don't know if I can manage buttons or my boots," she admits, waving away steam as Leandra closes the doors behind her.  
  
"Shh, just come here," the queen urges and as ever, Araceli obeys, taking a seat on some ornate white chair as she shrugs off her coat and closes her eyes to let Leandra undress her, fingers soft and gentle with her. The weapons are removed carefully and set to one side, her pockets emptied, clothes set aside for washing and her boots for mending when Araceli manages to mutter something about them leaking. Her jewellery is next and she has to talk the queen through it given that her jewellery isn't like the showy pieces Leandra favours but is in fact a series of interconnected lock picks out of necessity. Leandra hums under her breath as she works until Araceli is finally naked and sinking into the bath with a sigh, the water just right, Leandra guiding her until almost all of her is submerged, just her head and shoulders above the surface. "Better?" Leandra asks, her voice sounding as though she's a thousand miles away and Araceli closes her eyes and nods.  
  
"Thank you," she manages at last, opening her eyes only to smile not at Leandra but at the bath itself: she's used one of those strange things Estene – or is it Ebeos? It escapes her at the moment – produces, little bars to crumble or some ball you drop in the bath that fizzes and changes the colour of the water, some of them even popping and bubbling. The water is dark, the purple of summer sunsets, swirls of pink radiating out from the centre and it shimmers when she moves her hands through it and it smells like balmy summer nights in some foreign country, flowers that only bloom at twilight in private gardens tended only by queens.  
  
The heat spreading across her cheeks has little to do with the water.  
  
Leandra's hands knead her shoulders and neck, the pressure too light or too strong because normally it's one of them behind her after a long day, either in the bath or the bed, sometimes still at one of the desks as she works late but Araceli relaxes into it, leaning back as the tension bleeds away. By the time Leandra guides her back to work on her hair she's boneless and wondering if this is how the mermaids feel, moving her legs and arms just enough to create a little current in the water.  
  
"Careful," she warns, lifting a hand to touch the spot that hurts and Leandra murmurs an agreeing noise as she leans forward to kiss Araceli's cheek.  
  
"Lie back, let me take of my brave guard injured in the line of duty."  
  
Araceli snorts, shifting forward to give Leandra more room. "I think that's meant for the ones who get shot or stabbed, not people hit over the head with bottles-"  
  
"You all do so much for me, you've pledged your lives Araceli-"  
  
"Gladly, willingly," she interrupts, turning just enough to see Leandra frowning because she hates any time they get hurt, really she hates any time something happens to them, even if it's just a cruel word.  
  
"I know but I love all of you, one day..." She sighs and Araceli moves, reaching out to curl a finger under Leandra's chin to guide her into a kiss.  
  
"Wash my hair," she whispers when they part and Leandra's laugh echoes off the walls. Maybe one day they'll have their ideal world where no one has to get hurt but right now it's unavoidable, each and every guard accepting that even if Leandra doesn't. It's one of the reasons they all love her.  
  
It takes far too long to actually untangle Araceli's hair, soft apologies from the queen when she encounters tangles that make Araceli's eyes and scalp sting and in the end she retrieves a wide-toothed comb when her fingers fail. Araceli has no idea how late it is now but she doesn't need to be told to close her eyes when at last her hair can be combed through without any struggle, massaging in the kelp shampoo almost every Castilean uses. By the time Leandra's done, pale green foams mingles with the purple and pink water and Araceli doesn't want to get out even as the water cools around her. At least the towels are warm and soft, Leandra patting her skin dry, pressing kisses to her shoulders and her neck. She offers body lotion but Araceli shakes her head, only wanting to crawl into bed now that she can move without hurting and when Leandra leaves to fetch her something to wear, she braids her hair loosely, wrapping it around her head like a crown.  
  
"You'll sleep late tomorrow, I'll talk to the captain," Leandra says as she returns with a purple nightgown made of some silky fabric, one that Araceli only recognises from peeling the queen out of it. It doesn't fit quite right because Leandra's curvier than Araceli so it hangs awkwardly enough that she has to fold her arms to keep herself decent, not that she really cares but she's feeling the cold now. "No arguments and you'll have breakfast here, someone will bring you clean clothes from your quarters and a doctor will check that injury again."  
  
"Of course your grace," she agrees because it sounds like heaven really, tired enough that she'd say yes to anything as Leandra guides her into bed, the lump beneath the blankets that is Lux scurrying up the bed to drape himself over her feet. Through eyes that struggle to stay open, she watches Leandra moving around, draining the bath and closing the doors, switching off the lamps until only the one by the bed stays on, a delicate stained glass piece, greens and blues like the great hall. Her eyes are closed when Leandra finally climbs into bed, tugging Araceli closer until she realises Leandra is sitting with Araceli's head in her lap, one hand at the nape of her neck, reassuring.  
  
"Go to sleep," the queen urges, Araceli smiling at the affection in her voice. "Allow me to watch over you for a change."  
  
"Love you," Araceli manages, attempting to look up at Leandra while she says it but she can feel sleep pulling at her, warm and safe and loved, smelling like the sea and a private garden, her fox at her feet and her queen close in the ridiculously oversized bed, knowing that the headboard Leandra leans again, a great pink and gold shell, looks just like another throne. A private audience they've all called it at one time or another and it makes her laugh quietly as she squirms to get more comfortable.  
  
"And you," Leandra replies. There's the rustle of paper and then Leandra's voice, soft and soothing as she reads aloud to Araceli, old poetry that they all know, about mermaids in their ancient halls, brave sailors exploring new lands and falling in love with the sea again and again, whales that carry the world and if Araceli sees Leandra at every mention of a merqueen with her hair threaded with pearls and stars she had some sailor pluck from the sky then that can be her secret. And if, because she's tired and her head hurts and she can't quite remember the difference between thinking to herself and thinking aloud then Leandra will only pause and stroke her cheek fondly, waiting for Araceli to finish before she can continue herself with a smile on her face.


End file.
